


Don't Write Yourself Off Yet

by imawalkingtravesty



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mention of Panic Attacks, Not Canon Compliant, Pardoned Team Captain America, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Short One Shot, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty
Summary: Had he known that he would’ve been alone with Bucky, he probably would’ve called Rhodey to inconspicuously sit in the room with him just in case. Two against one. Even though one was paralyzed from the waist down and the other was two seconds away from a panic attack, they might stand a chance against the super soldier.In which Tony is still recovering from the events of Civil War, and he is presented with the opportunity to spend time with Bucky Barnes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Don't Write Yourself Off Yet

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really know where this falls? After Civil War definitely, but before infinity war, I guess. Also, Rogues have been pardoned here, clearly, and Steve and Tony are back to being best of friends kind of :) I’ve never written Bucky before so let me know how I do?
> 
> This is really short, but I wanted to put something out real quick, I'm working on something longer ;)

Tony liked to hide.

It was how he protected himself, along with deflecting and pushing others away. Albeit a bit sad, he knew how to balance social interaction and time for himself; he didn’t let himself be a stranger to the others, even the pardoned rogue Avengers, _even_ Steve. Their conversations were a bit awkward, but they weren’t hostile or anything. He could work with anyone without problem.

All except for James Buchanan Barnes. He avoided that man like the plague. And that was why he was in his workshop, elbow-deep in some machinery, his head low and the place on lockdown. He had FRIDAY keep tabs on where Bucky was at all times so he knew where _not_ to go; it was like reverse-stalking. He was in the common area this time, with everyone else, and as much as Tony would’ve loved a game of Mario Kart with the others he didn’t know how he’d react.

It wasn’t that he hated him, it wasn’t that he still resented him, he knew that Bucky had been brainwashed and used as a weapon; it was more that he was scared. Tony was _scared_ of Bucky Barnes. They had fought, and sure while it was Cap who slammed the shield on the arc reactor, Bucky showed his strength as well. _Not to mention that he killed his mother._

He was still afraid of Steve, in all honesty. Every time he made a sudden move, Tony flinched, no matter how many times Steve reassured him that they were on the same team. He just couldn’t help himself, and cursed internally every time that happened. Steve noticed too, which meant Tony had to apologize and endure his puppy-dog eyes and profuse reassurances that he would never ever ever hurt him.

So, Tony liked to hide. It was better alone. Sure, he felt lonely, but lonely was better than scared.

A knock at the door startled him, and he glanced up to glare at whoever it was. Sam Wilson. He didn’t yet have an override code, and to be honest, he wasn’t about to hand them out anymore; Steve’s got deleted, along with Clint’s. The only people with them were Natasha, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Thor, and Bruce. Two of them were off-world, he and Pepper were still on a break, which took Happy away too. That left Rhodey and Nat. 

“Let him in,” Tony sighed, wiping the motor grease off of his hands on an old rag.

The door slid open, and Sam strode in. Tony threw the rag onto a surface and crossed his hands over his chest defensively. 

“Sup, man,” Sam said, holding a hand up as a greeting.

Tony smiled and copied his action, trying to relax. “Hey.”

“You wanna come up? We got dinner going,” Sam offered, his grin easy on his face, everything about him welcoming. “You becoming a hermit down here?”

“Got busy.” Tony shrugged, fighting to keep his tone light. “Still busy. Thanks for the offer though.”

“Nah, c’mon man.” Sam moved forward, and Tony had to consciously keep himself from backing away. “You’ve been working for days now.”

“Yeah, ‘cause this is important,” Tony pointed out. “Gotta make coin somehow; I gotta keep putting food on the table for you guys.”

“Come join us, one night won’t hurt,” Sam said, waving a hand of dismissal. “We miss you.”

Tony knew Bucky was still up there, and _Steve_ , too. Even though he pardoned them on paper, he still didn’t enjoy being in the same room as the two; it was just awkward and too silent, and it seemed that everyone else was holding their breath and waiting for the next move. Just having Steve there was uncomfortable enough, but adding Bucky to the mix was a recipe for anxiety that Tony really didn’t need right now.

Sam put a hand on his elbow, pulling him forward. “C’mon,” he said, ignoring how Tony tensed up under his grip. 

He swallowed a lump in his throat and followed suit, letting Sam push him to the elevator. Sam released his elbow once the doors were closed as if afraid he was going to run away if given the chance, and pushed the button for the proper floor. “I feel like you’re leading me to my execution,” Tony joked, trying to ease the tension.

“Maybe I am. Last dinner vibes, yeah?” Sam elbowed him. 

They were all so... _touchy_. That wasn’t a problem itself, but Tony was picky about who could touch him. He had a very small circle of people he trusted: Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Bruce. The rest he knew had his back on the battlefield, but that was about the extent of it. And Bucky and Steve, he always checked his six even if they said that they got it.

The doors opened and Tony walked out, Sam behind him. Everyone else was sitting at the dining table, deep in conversation with each other, and what looked like a soupy lasagna was being passed around. Steve’s cooking, by the looks of it; all his recipes were edible, and every once in a while tasty, but they looked like they’d been fished from the garbage. A wave of nostalgia washed over Tony, making his heart pound even harder in his chest. He swallowed.

“Hey, Stark,” Clint said, nodding at him. Tony took a seat beside Nat, and Sam scooted in on the other side of him, glancing nervously at the two as if wondering what Tony would say. Tony was tired of everyone acting like they were walking on eggshells around him.

“Long time no see,” he joked, reaching for the basket of dinner rolls. He broke one open and began to butter it, letting out a breath of relief when he saw that his hands weren't shaking. That would've been embarrassing.

He glanced over at Bucky and Steve, near the far end of the table, both sat beside each other. They were talking about whatever, Bucky being the most vocal that Tony had ever seen him; it was like he was a totally different person. Maybe Tony was the reason that Bucky didn’t like to talk. While he knew it wasn’t fair since Tony didn’t exactly make an effort to welcome the soldier, he still felt a little pang of jealousy; everyone else had managed to befriend him, to make him comfortable enough to hold a conversation, while Tony stayed on the outside.

Anxiety was stifling his hunger, and he took little bites of bread instead of digging into the main course. Sam kept trying to engage him in a conversation, and he replied politely, but it was all succinct; he just wanted to go back down and work. This was a mistake. He should’ve put up more of a fight.

“Stark.”

Tony glanced up at the direction of the voice. Steve was smiling at him, Bucky looking his way as well. He swallowed. “Yeah?”

“I need a favour,” Steve continued. “Bucky, actually.”

“What’s up?” Tony tried to say like his heart wasn’t pounding in his throat. He was relieved when his voice only came out a little strained.

“My arm needs a tune-up; it’s been a while since the last diagnosis, I was wondering if you could look at it,” Bucky elaborated, his smile way too wide and his tone way too cheery. “I'd really appreciate it.”

“When?” Tony asked, clasping his hands in his lap so nobody could see how they were shaking. The table was quiet, as if everyone had been stunned into silence over the two actually conversing for once. 

_I need to leave._

“Whenever you’re free.”

“I’ll text Rogers with a time,” Tony stood up quickly, suddenly all jittery. “Thanks for dinner, guys.”

“You only had a dinner roll?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I had a big lunch. And besides, gotta free up some time for Barnes over there,” Tony lied, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in Bucky’s general direction. “My compliments to the chef, Cap.”

He left the room quickly, his hands shoved in his pockets. Sam followed, apparently angry. Tony ignored him, heading for the elevator as fast as he could walk without seeming suspicious. Amid his best attempts, Sam still caught up with him when he was waiting for the elevator; someone had called it on the lower level, and he tensed his shoulders and turned to confront him.

“Why do you always run away?” Sam asked first, annoyed. “I invited you up to chat with us.”

“I have to work,” Tony stuck with his story. He said nothing about his breath feeling like it was running away from him, or the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“You can take a break for a measly thirty minutes,” Sam argued, keeping his voice low. “We need you to actually talk to us, man.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Tony rolled his eyes. 

“You’re down there, acting all… _damaged_ and shit, we’re actually trying to build trust with you. We’re _sorry_. We’re trying to _apologize_ ,” Sam explained, putting stress into his words. “You were right about that whole mess, you happy?”

“I wasn’t _right_.” Tony spat, because of course this was about the accords, wasn't everything? It was all anybody wanted to talk about, apparently nothing else was going on, apparently it was all over a stupid disagreement and not a physical fight that damn near _killed_ him. “You don’t get to say that. The accords were _not_ right, I sure as hell only agreed with about half of the terms, but by signing you can get your foot in the door and negotiate and shit. I’m _good_ at this business stuff, in case you haven’t realized.”

“In any case, opinions aside, we kinda want you as a friend,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Thanks for trying,” Tony said sourly, stepping into the now-present elevator. He waved pettily back at Sam until the doors closed and he was out of sight.

Tony groaned softly, his posture slumping. He rubbed his temples against a headache building there, pressure making his eyes shut closed. He was still filled with barely-contained anxiety, and now he had to work on Barnes’s arm? The very arm that killed his mother? That was a recipe for a panic attack, fixing something that had killed one of the only people who had loved Tony, and being alone with the killer himself.

He wasn’t being fair. He knew that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, that he had been fucked five times over, but he was still… intimidating. A super soldier, genetically enhanced, just like Steve. The two were big and scary and Tony was just a normal man, albeit his genius. He cursed under his breath. Always back to the man in a can, always human at the end of the day.

The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out to his workshop, silently accepting the pain medication and half-spilled glass of water from Dum-E; FRIDAY must’ve figured out that he had a headache, she was learning fast. 

“Good girl,” Tony said, nodding to the nearest camera. He patted Dum-E’s arm as well. “And good boy.”

He popped the painkillers into his mouth and chased them down with the glass of water, then clasped his hands together and resolved to get to work. If he finished his suit repairs, he’d probably have an hour or two to focus on Bucky’s arm, maybe more if it was complicated. He was ahead on his projects anyway, after shutting himself in the workshop with no sleep for days on end. What he was doing now was just for pleasure, and it helped to get the R&D people off his neck.

Pepper didn’t call him anymore. She didn’t come over to check on his progress, to go over the things he had to get done. Now, he just got emails that he was required to check regularly for reminders, without anybody who was reminding him to check on the reminders. And besides, everyone at R&D was scared of him. That was why having Pepper was nice, because he was actually scared of _her_.

He missed her.

_Tomorrow at 13:00?_ Tony texted Steve. He put down the phone and rolled up his sleeves, ready to get some work done.

Steve texted back almost immediately. _Sounds good. Thanks again, Tony._

Tony was almost tempted to text back _no problem_ , but it was a problem; being alone? With the man who he tried to kill him, who had killed his mother, who had taken the Avengers away from him? It was practically the source of _all_ his problems. The thought bounced around his head as he worked, his heart hammering in his chest, and he tried his best to distract himself but to no avail. 

He left Steve on read.

\--

“Hey, Tony.”

Tony nodded in Steve’s direction, trying to look like he hadn’t been thinking about this appointment all night and all day, no siree, this was just a little blip in his radar. He pushed the project that he had been trying to concentrate on away to make table space, and wiped his greasy hands on his shirt. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, and Tony froze, but quickly recovered.

“What’s up, Buckaroo,” Tony said, busying himself in looking for the appropriate tools. He had actually laid them all out before they had arrived, but he didn’t want to make eye contact yet. “Is there an actual problem, or are you just looking for a check-up?”

“It makes a weird clicking noise when I bend it,” Bucky supplied, bending his arm at the elbow. A repeated clicking noise of gears was heard, and Tony wracked his brain for a possible source, matching the noise with previous experience. “It usually doesn’t sound like that.”

“Sounds like a gear is stuck,” Tony said, nodding. “Can you take it off?”

“It’s easier to leave it, takes hours to put back on, and it hurts, if you don’t mind,” Bucky said, shrugging. Tony swallowed, glancing at the shiny metal. 

“Okay,” he said. _Okay._

Steve grinned at them both like a proud parent for some reason, and backed up to the door. “I’ll leave you to it?”

“You’re leaving?” Tony asked before he could help himself, surprised.

“Unless you need me?” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“No, of course not, go do your afternoon prayers,” Tony shooed him away, his heart not into the teasing. _Alone. With James Buchanan Barnes._

Steve left, and the silence was uncomfortably heavy. Tony turned to Bucky, clasping his hands together and breathing out through his mouth and in through his nose. Bucky stared at him, as if waiting for something, and Tony shrunk under his gaze. Had he known that he would’ve been _alone_ with him, he probably would’ve called Rhodey to inconspicuously sit in the room with him just in case. Two against one. Even though one was paralyzed from the waist down and the other was two seconds away from a panic attack, they _might_ stand a chance against a fucking super soldier.

“Down to business,” Tony said, gesturing for Bucky to sit at a chair next to the desk. He pulled his desk chair so that it was beside Bucky, positioned closer to the door in case a quick exit was needed.

_In, onetwothree, out, onetwothree._

“So, how was your day?” Tony asked, trying to ease the tension. Bucky held out his arm for him to inspect, and Tony was glad to have an excuse not to hold eye contact. “FRI, 3D model please.”

“Scanning,” FRIDAY said, a couple projectors at work.

“It was good, got a doughnut for breakfast, so that was nice,” Bucky said, thinking. “Went for a walk.”

It was hard to imagine Bucky going for a leisurely walk. If he was anything like Steve, everything had to be done with _passion_. “No ultramarathon at six AM?” he tried to joke.

To his surprise, Bucky laughed. “Steve’s a weird one. It’s almost like he’s abusing the serum, showing off.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony mumbled under his breath. He waved his hands and the hologram for the arm floated in between the two, bright blue. He glanced up quickly at Bucky’s face, grateful to find wonder there; it never got tiring, seeing the miracles of science reflected on someone else’s face. “It’s cool, isn’t it?”

“Y’know, your father promised us flying cars back in the nineteen-forties,” Bucky said, smirking.

Tony tried not to cringe at the mention of his father, an automatic reaction. “I have flying suits and faster cars and commercial airlines. I think those outweigh that.”

“I’m sure you could make a car fly if you wanted to. Steve’s told me about the things you can do,” Bucky said, still mesmerized by the projection. 

“Good things, I hope.” Tony manipulated the projection so that it showed the inside of the arm. “FRI, highlight the problem.”

A red blurb showed up in the machinery, a stark contrast from the blue. Tony zoomed in on the area and searched for a cause, inspecting gears and looking for loose or fried wires.

“He talks a lot about you,” Bucky mentioned, like it wasn't important. “It’s always Tony this and Tony that.”

“Why does he tell you?” Tony asked, genuinely curious. Plus, keeping Bucky talking meant that it wasn’t awkward silence. He should’ve put on an album or a playlist or the TV at the very least.

“Usually about your suits. He thinks they’re fantastic, a miracle of science. You’re the smartest person he knows, he’s always gushing about you,” Bucky said, smiling softly as if remembering something. 

“What about that science girl in Wakanda? Shuri?” Tony asked. He had only met the girl once, but had heard and read many things about her.

“She’s smart too, don’t get me wrong. But I think you mean more to Steve.”

Tony was blushing profusely by now, bending low over the hologram to hide his face. Steve Rogers. Tony felt powerless next to him, small and inconvenient, and Steve was impressed by him? That didn’t make sense. They had fought over it, Steve saying that he talked too much for his own good, Tony unable to shut up when it came to explaining how things worked. Sure, Tony tended to rub shit in Steve’s face, but it was hardly his fault that this stuff was elementary to him.

“He misses you,” Bucky said, after a short silence. “I’m… sorry I messed things up between you two.”

“We were never the best of friends,” Tony said, his voice going tight. “It’s not all about you, you know. We had different opinions, about the whole, the whole _thing_.”

_In, onetwothree, out, onetwothree._

“And I hope you understand why I’m a bit… tense,” Tony continued, addressing the elephant in the room.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky apologized, his head low.

“It’s not your fault. Not really. I get it,” Tony said, his voice becoming more and more strained. “It’s just- I can’t just shrug it off.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Bucky said. “Steve was, he was the one that wanted us to talk, really. I would’ve probably just waited until we saw Shuri again to address my arm, but Steve told me to see you.”

“Well. I’m flattered,” Tony said, not sure if he should be relieved or insulted. He finally found the problem, a gear with a small part of it jammed into the metal of the joint. He grabbed a screwdriver and popped open a plate on the actual arm, not mentioning it when Bucky startled a bit.

He coughed awkwardly as if to cover up the movement. “I will never hurt you, okay? You don’t have to forgive me or anything, or even be civil to me, but just know that,” Bucky said awkwardly.

“You sound like him, like Cap,” Tony scoffed. “All this apology shit. _I won’t hurt you_.”

“You don’t believe us?”

“Not so much as I’m tired of hearing it,” Tony admitted. “I know you won’t hurt me. I mean, I think I know you won’t hurt me. You’re… a cool guy when you’re not trying to, to kill me.”

Tony paused to breathe a bit, and Bucky was kind enough not to say anything about it.

“Same with Cap. He’s stubborn and a leader, and when he’s not chewing my ass off, he’s pretty great. And I _know_ that. I _know_ those circumstances weren’t ideal, and I definitely acted out of emotion more than anything, but I just, I just, it messed me up, okay?” Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I do forgive you. But you’re terrifying.”

The silence was heavy, and Tony immediately regretted saying all of that. He worked on dislodging the gear, working around the wires, ignoring the shaking in his hands. He was good with his hands, this should be calming him down, but this was the arm that _killed his mother_. This arm tried to kill _him_. Granted, Tony tried to kill Bucky, and he would forever be sorry for that and regretting it, but he deserved a bit of anger.

_In, onetwothree, out, onetwothree._

“I hope we can see a middle ground, then,” Bucky said after a while.

Tony nodded, sighing. He dislodged the gear, and put it back into place, inspecting the joint that it had gotten caught on to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

“Not to sound cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I need to snap out of it,” he said, still staring at the arm even though he was pretty much done with it.

“You reacted in a perfectly reasonable manner,” Bucky said.

“No, none of this _shit_ , okay?” Tony snapped. “My feelings have been long validated; I don’t need permission to wallow in self-pity, I did that for almost three months until you guys came back. I _do_ need to get over myself. You’ve proven yourself trustworthy a dozen times over, I need to learn to get that through my thick skull!”

Bucky seemed unphased by the outburst. “What about Steve?”

“Him too. But every time he so much as moves forward, I flinch and he goes all sad. It’s depressing,” Tony mumbled, not entirely sure why he was telling Bucky this. Something about complaining about a mutual person seemed to be an easy conversation topic.

“Should we ignore it when you flinch, then?” Bucky asked.

“It would make me feel less pathetic, yes,” Tony snorted. He stood up and turned on his propane blowtorch, wordlessly handing a pair of goggles to Bucky as he pulled his own over his eyes. 

Bucky watched as he fused the metal plate back into his arm, pressing down and shaping with thick gloves. Tony removed his goggles once he was done, throwing them on the desk. Bucky followed suit, then bent and straightened his arm at Tony’s request; the problem was fixed.

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky said, smiling at him. “And good talk.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Let me know if you have any other problems.”

“There is actually one more thing,” Bucky said, standing up from his chair. “Join us for dinner?”

Tony smiled back at him, tension gone, his breath no longer threatening to run away from him again. 

“I’ll see you then.”


End file.
